Out of The Woods
by Lanu Tavol
Summary: Post ep to Season 2's 'The Woods'. Spoilers for that episode. Stillman takes Lilly home.


Out of The Woods

Lanu Tavol

He gave the gun to Jeffries, slipped it into the other man's hands without a word. Jeffries knew what it was, knew what it meant and took it with nothing more than nod and a grim tightness about his lips. Stillman knew he should keep it; knew he should be the one to hand it over to IAD; knew he should stay and give his own statement, let Lilly give hers, but he'd heard what George Marks had said to her, knew what the bastard had made her say and do. He wasn't going to let some jerk from Internal Affairs make her go through it all again, not when she was so fragile, not when she was as close to breaking as Stillman had ever seen her.

So he gave the gun to Jeffries, left him in charge of the scene and went to her.

"Come on, Lil," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, feeling the cold and the unmistakable tremor underneath, no matter the front she was trying to keep up with Vera and Scotty, "Let me drive you home."

"I'm fine, boss," she said, turning a smile on him.

"Lil," he said, voice forcing her to meet his gaze. And there it was: the fear, the pleading, the darkness. "You know I can't let you drive right now – it would be my head!"

Vera laughed at that and even Scotty smiled – Scotty who knew that his boss would be in trouble for crossing that line, for not waiting for SWAT, for going in alone.

"Wouldn't want to get the boss in trouble, Rush," said Vera.

"Nah," agreed Scotty, "'Cause you know he could just make your life hell if he wanted."

"All right," she said, holding up her hands in surrender, "Drive me home why don't you." She fished for her car keys and handed them over to him.

He nodded at her and watched as she got into the passenger side of her car and eased the door to. "Thanks guys," he said.

"No problem," said Vera.

"Just get her home safe, boss."

"Sure thing, Scotty," he said, tossing his own keys to the younger man. "I'll pick it up from Central tomorrow – don't want to come back out here again."

* * *

They drove back in silence and he could feel her pulling away, pulling back into herself. She was putting up the walls again, building them up so high that when she said 'I'm fine, boss,' and looked him in the eye, he wouldn't see the fear or the pain in her eyes. He wouldn't see anything.

"Not this time," he muttered.

"You say something, boss?"

"Huh, what? Nah, Lil," he said with a smile, "Just some old guy talking to himself."

"Happens to us all," she said.

He was losing her now. He knew if he didn't get her to go through some if now, tonight, with him where it was safe, she'd never talk about, never work any of it out. IAD would send her to mandatory counselling, but Lilly Rush was not a woman to be counselled.

He pulled up in front of her place and cut the engine. "Mind if I come in for a minute, grab a cup of coffee? These old bones seem to have taken a chill."

She hesitated, hand on the buckle of her seatbelt. If she said no, she'd show weakness; if she said yes, she'd have to let him in.

"Sure," she said, unclipping the belt and getting out.

"Thanks, Lil." He followed her out and waited as she unlocked the door.

She switched on the lights as she went through to the kitchen, scooping up the ginger cat who had been sleeping on a high stool and cradling her close.

"Coffee." She moved through the room aimlessly, opening cupboards, banging drawers, not finding what she was looking for.

"I can do that," he said, taking a step closer and resting his hand on her shoulder again.

She spun sharply – pulled away from him as the cat leapt nimbly from her arms.

"Whoa," he said, hands up, "It's okay."

"Sorry, boss," she said, leaning heavily against the counter, breath ragged. "I really need to change." She pulled at the shirt, "I think there's blood on this."

"Okay," he said again, "You go change – I'll make the coffee."

"Thanks," she said, skirting carefully past him.

He turned to watch her, frowning as she paused at the bottom of the stairs. Then he remembered the conversation on the phone.

"You think he might have been here?" he asked, crossing to her, gun already loosed from its holster. George Marks certainly wasn't here, but there was very little Stillman would put past him.

She nodded, already pulling back to let him pass in front of her, arms wrapped tightly around herself and that bloodied shirt.

"Stay here," he said, thinking that this time at least she might listen to him.

He took the stairs quickly but cautiously. The door straight ahead was a cupboard, to his left the bathroom, to his right the bedroom. He opened the door carefully – there was no immediate threat, no need to kick in the door like Lilly was some kind of suspect. The tiny cupboard was a mess, but Stillman didn't think Marks had had anything to do with that.

Bathroom next, clean, neat, tidy. Nothing there.

He turned to the bedroom, the only room in the house he'd never been in, and paused, unwilling to violate her privacy, but knowing that if anything had been done, it would have been in there.

He opened it quickly, all business, scanning the room once, not seeing what was there, but rather what wasn't. No signs of anything obvious. His eyes jumped back and he looked round the room again, seeing it this time. Closet, bed, nightstand – there were the photos Marks had talked about – window, tallboy, the second window. Nothing had been touched, he was sure. The room was exactly as Lilly had left it.

Stillman closed the door gently then holstered his gun and went downstairs.

"All clear," he said.

She nodded, blinking away the tears she didn't want him to see and pressed past him on the stairs.

He let her go, watching as she reached the landing and disappeared from sight.

He shook his head sharply and went to the kitchen, bracing himself against the counter, letting his head drop and feeling the muscles in his neck pull painfully. She had been so close to lost; she _was_ so close to lost.

He stood there trying not to think, trying to lose himself in the dull ache of tired muscles, but feeling only the sharp pain of loss and the all too real terror that this wasn't over yet, not even with Marks lying on some cold mortuary slab.

And then Lilly came back down.

"You okay, boss?"

He laughed, "Am I okay?" He pushed off the counter and turned to face her, tears pricking now in _his_ eyes. "We almost lost you, Lil."

She shrugged awkwardly, "I'm okay."

He smiled and shook his head, "No you're not."

"I will be," she said resolutely, pushing past him.

"I know you will, I just don't want you to bury this down so deep that it comes back to haunt you sometime. You need to work it through."

"Not now," she said, trying in vain to keep her voice even.

"All right."

"Coffee," she said suddenly, "You wanted coffee."

"Sure." He glanced at his watch, "I need something to keep me up if I'm going to get back home tonight."

She hesitated, filling the pot with water, "You could … if it would be easier, I mean…. You could stay here tonight. I have the daybed, so you wouldn't have to sleep on the couch."

"You sure?" he asked, "I wouldn't want to put you out."

Lilly turned, eyes pleading with him to stay, not for his comfort, but for hers; she didn't want to be alone in the house, but didn't want to have to say it either. "Wouldn't be safe to drive tired, boss."

"All right," he said, "I'll stay. Thanks."

* * *

He woke to the sound of her foot on the bottom step; jolted straight from deep sleep to fully alert from long years of practice. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for her to fetch a glass of water and go back upstairs, not wanting to let her know she had woken him, but he didn't hear the faucet, didn't hear any sound from the kitchen.

He heard the rustle of her clothes as she moved and then felt the slight weight of her settle down next to him on the bed.

"Couldn't sleep," she said softly, voice pitched so as not to wake him, but loud enough for him to hear if he were already awake.

"Nightmares?" he asked, stretching out his arm to rest next to her.

She shook her head. "No. I didn't get that far."

"Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head again, wrapping her arms tight around herself. "I just want to sleep, boss."

"Then lie down, Lil," he said, reaching up to pull her down next to him. "Close your eyes."

"I keep seeing his face; not like he was today; not the face of the killer, but the face of the little boy who was raped in those woods; the little boy who's mother sold him out."

He knew what she was thinking, he'd heard what she'd said – she was nothing like him, like Marks; except in that one respect. They'd both been sold out. Stillman had read her file, knew the story, or as much of it as had made it into the report.

"You had no choice, Lil, it was kill or be killed." He let out a short harsh puff of air, "I know that doesn't help much."

"Will I forget that face?" she asked, voice catching painfully.

He sighed, wanting to reach out to her, but not knowing if she would accept it. Lilly Rush had 'keep off' painted in foot high letters on signs all around her; but maybe not tonight.

"No," he said, clasping her arm almost roughly. "You won't." He took a breath, "I was 18 when I first killed someone, when I first took a life. He was just a kid, caught up in that mess, same as me. I never forgot his face, but I never forgot looking into the barrel of his gun either. I thought I was invincible up till then, but I saw just how fragile life is.

"You won't forget that face, Lil, or the terror, but it'll fade and you'll be able to sleep nights."

"I want to sleep; I want to forget."

He moved his hand down to her waist, resting it on the neutral ground of her hip. "Then sleep, Lil, close your eyes."

"I still see him."

"I know," he said. "You did something terrible today, and that won't go easily, but you did something wonderful too."

"I did?"

"Yes," he said, wrapping his arm around her, surprised to feel her not pull away, but rather burrow back against him. "Marks knew he was going to die, one way or another. Your gun or the needle, what did it matter? But you, you were in the balance, and you saved yourself, Lilly. You saved your life; you saved something special."

"I don't feel so special."

"But you are. You did what he couldn't – you overcame, you survived, you fought and kept on fighting. You're _nothing_ like him."

He felt the tremor go through her, felt the ragged breath, and felt suddenly how cold she was, shivering even in the relative warmth of the apartment.

"Here," he said, lifting her up and pulling the covers out from under her before laying her back down and settling the covers over her. He put his hand back on her hip, but she took it in her own, settled back close against his chest and pulled his arm around her so he was holding her tight.

And that was his undoing.

"Oh, Lil," he whispered, "When I heard that shot, I thought we'd lost you, thought _I'd_ lost you. I don't think I could have done that. Don't say you aren't special, Lil; you're something else." He paused, knowing he'd already said too much, but she hadn't seemed to notice. "I'm glad you're okay," he said, bending his head to kiss the crook of her neck.

He felt a sudden stiffening of her frame and immediately regretted it. "Sorry, Lil, I didn't mean to."

He tried to pull his arm away and shuffle away from her, but as his back hit the wooden board of the bed she gripped his hand fiercely and turned in the embrace.

"John," she said, reaching up to caress his cheek, "It's okay." And then her lips were on his, soft, sweet and desperately needy.

"No, Lil," he said softly, taking her hand in his and pulling it down to his chest, "It's not okay."

She looked up at him and saw immediately what he meant. "Sorry, boss," she muttered, pulling away from him. "I should go back upstairs, let you sleep."

"Wait."

She stopped, looking back over her shoulder at him, moments away from rising.

"I'm not saying no to you, Lil, don't think that, please. I'm saying no to this, to now. You're hurting tonight, you're not thinking straight." He reached for her hand and she let him take it. "You need something tonight, a connection, an affirmation that you're still here, still alive. I want to give that to you, but I don't want you to regret it."

"I wouldn't," she said, turning back towards him, lying down next to him.

"You say that now," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "But tomorrow would be a different story." He leant forward, resting his forehead against hers, "You come back to me sometime when you aren't hurting and ask for this again, I'm yours, don't doubt it – you know I never could say no to you – but tonight, Lil, you'll just have to settle for what I can give in good faith."

She sighed, letting herself relax into the embrace, "I suppose that'll just have to be enough."

* * *

She really was beautiful, and if it weren't that she was lying painfully across his arm, Stillman would gladly have stayed watching her all morning, never mind that he at least had to go to work.

He had tried worming his arm out from under her, but it seemed that she was heavier than she looked.

"Lil," he said, touching his free hand to her shoulder, "Lil, you need to move over."

"What?" she asked, opening her eyes. "Boss!" She jerked back with such force that she fell onto the floor.

"Lil!"

"I'm okay," she said, pulling herself to her knees, not meeting his eyes.

He smiled, "I didn't think I was _quite_ that repulsive."

She laughed, the sound an almost hysterical release, "Not that, boss, never that."

"Good," he said, rolling out of the bed. He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet, painfully aware that this would be the last moment of closeness. "Now, how's about I grab a shower and get out of here? I'll take your car, but I'll come back and pick you up around lunch time and you can come in and speak to IAD then – give you a change to get your head straight first?"

"I could just come in now," she said, not letting go of his hand.

"Nah, Lil, wait a little." That would let him take the heat for crossing that line without her being there.

"If you say so, boss."

"Good," he said, giving her hand a firm squeeze before finally letting go and heading for the bathroom. His foot was on the step before she spoke.

"I'm glad you were here last night, boss," she said quietly.

He turned and smiled, "Me too, Lil, me too."

ENDS


End file.
